


Strength is Weakness and Weakness is Strength

by SneakyHufflepuff



Category: Supernatural, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clint and Dean are damsels in distress, Clint and Natasha are hunters (but still exactly the same), Gen, Natasha respects no laws
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SneakyHufflepuff/pseuds/SneakyHufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Dean are kidnapped by the monster of the week (for the prompt "Clint meets Dean").</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strength is Weakness and Weakness is Strength

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to shenshen77 for betaing and offering advice. I apologize to the Supernatural fandom in advance, as I've only seen a few episodes. This is earlyish to midseries Sam and Dean, before the really weird stuff started happening.

Clint stopped a groan from escaping as he woke up in unfamiliar surroundings. His back and legs were numb from sitting on a wooden chair. Quick experimentation revealed he was tied professionally to the chair with thick rope binding his wrists, upper arms, torso and ankles. Through swollen eyes he look surreptitiously around, seeing wooden walls and support beams covered in dust. The milieu was lit by the glow of one flickering light bulb and the light from the late afternoon sun streaming through cracks in the wall. Great. An abandoned warehouse.

“Psst. Sammy. You awake?” A voice, rough and masculine, came from behind him.

Clint turned his head. From the corner of his eye he could make out the profile of a man tied behind him. He was brunette and in his early thirties.

“I don’t know who Sammy is, but I’m pretty sure he’s not here,” Clint responded.

“Damn.” Then a pause. “You seem way too calm for a civilian tied up in a warehouse. You’re not a civilian, are you?”

“Nope. I’m a hunter. My partner’s never gonna let me hear the end of this.” Clint put the intonation on hunter that only those who knew about the supernatural would catch.

“Yeah, neither’s mine. Look’s like we’re on the same hunt. Dean Winchester.”

Clint sucked in a breath. Everyone had heard of the Winchesters, and what happened to those who stuck around them too long. “Clint Barton. Five bucks says my partner finds us before yours does.”

“You’re on. My partner’s my brother Sammy. He’s whip-smart. Don’t tell him I said that,” Dean told him.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. And I’ll be seeing your money soon enough. _My_ partner is whip-smart, deadly with weapons or without, and gorgeous to boot.” Clint smiled confidently, the thought of Natasha making his circumstances seem less bleak.

“Blonde?” Dean asked, with interest.

“Redhead. So beautiful it hurts to look at her.”

“Redheads are trouble. Hell, _women_ are trouble,” Dean replied.

The sound of someone clapping, so slow as to be sarcastic, echoed around the warehouse. “Look, the two hunters are bonding. It’s like watching a baby learn how to talk. So much noise, so little thought.” A female voice, silky smooth and filled with menace, came from the shadows. It’s owner, a conventionally attractive blonde woman in her late twenties, followed. Between that and her leather pants, Clint calculated a ninety-five percent probability she was a demon. Demons weren’t very imaginative with their choice of meatsuits or the clothing they put on top of them.

“I know I would have remembered picking you up in a bar,” Dean said flirtatiously. “But I’m not into any of this rope stuff. Safe, sane and consensual, ever heard of it?” He quipped.

“Oh sweetie, if you wanted safe, you shouldn’t have spent your formative years banishing and killing my kind. I mean, what do you expect?” She shrugged helplessly with a pout that was comically exaggerated. She started walking around the tied up men like a cat circling her prey. “You know Natasha and Sam would do anything for you. Anything.” The demon licked her lips. Clint’s eyes widened in realization. Dean swore. “How long do you think it will take for them to agree to sell their souls to see you again?”

Dean looked the blonde up and down, a sneer on his lips. “How long do you think it is before they gank your dumb ass?”

The demon rolled her eyes and waved her hand. Dean recoiled as he felt a slap sting across his face. “Little boys who talk out of turn get punished.” She pulled a knife from her boot. “I can’t decide whether you’d be less obnoxious without your tongue. On one hand you’d be silent,” she walked towards Dean, hips swaying. “But on the other hand you’d be less pretty, and then what would be the point of having you around at all?” She straddled Dean, careless of the bruises she bumped as she did so. She raised her voice so Clint could hear her clearly. “Thoughts, birdman?”

Clint could only see the edges of what was happening behind him, but he could guess at the rest. “I think I’m not going to play whatever sick game you have in mind.”

The demon clucked sadly. “And I had such high hopes for you.” She levered herself off Dean, but before she could move more than a step towards Clint, she froze, body taught, eyes clouding black. She cocked her head as if hearing some sound in the distance. Her eyes cleared and she regarded Dean and Clint with a cold smile.

“You two boys be good while I’m gone.” She blew them a kiss and stepped back into the shadows.

After a while Dean spoke. “Where you from?”

“Iowa. You?” Clint figured if the demon was waiting for them to reveal some hidden secret while she was concealed somewhere, she’d be in for a long wait

“Kansas. Everywhere really.”

“Same. Grew up in the circus. Saw more of this country before I was a hunter than after.”

“You’re kidding me.” Genuine humor colored Dean’s tone. Clint guessed that meant the other hunter had decided he was trustworthy, at least until he proved otherwise.

“No joke.”

A silence fell as neither the demon nor their partners emerged from the shadows.

“Think they’re coming soon?” Dean asked. “I’m starting to lose circulation in my legs. And if my baby gets hurt while I’m gone, I’m gonna kill Sam.” Clint frowned. He hadn’t thought the Winchesters had romantic companions that lasted for any length of time. Clearly he had been misinformed.

Clint smiled confidently “Yeah. They’ll be here. My girl has never let me down before.” The sound of a car pulling up underscored his words.

“The same with my baby,” Dean said proudly.

The warehouse side door swung open, starlight and the dim glow of streetlights adding to the flickering light bulb already illuminating the warehouse. Natasha appeared at the doorway and crept towards them, a super-soaker held easily in her hands. A lanky man followed, bearing enough resemblance to Dean that Clint guessed this was ‘Sammy’.

Once she was close enough, Natasha rushed to Clint, checked him over and started undoing his restraints in silence. She looked at him in exasperation. _You’re an idiot, but I’m glad you’re okay_.

He smiled at her in return. _I’m glad to see you too, darlin’_.

“What took you so long?” Dean asked Sam accusingly, shattering the silence.

“Whatever, Dean. We got here as quickly as we could.” Sam rapidly untied his older brother.

“Shut up,” Natasha told the Winchesters. “She could be back-”

“At any moment.” The blonde demon stepped through the doorway, eyes black and a triumphant smile on her face. “Leaving so soon? I’m heartbroken.” She gestured with one hand. Sam was thrown back into the wall.

Natasha turned and sprayed the demon with the super-soaker.

“Ouch.” Smoke came from the demon’s skin as it hissed and boiled at the touch of holy water.

Clint’s bonds were loose enough that he could shrug the ropes off and get up from the chair. He took Natasha’s back, empty hands itching with the memory of his bow.

Despite the pain she must have been in, the demon moved with unnatural speed towards Dean, picking him up by the throat and headbutting him in the face. Dean’s feet dangled limply in the air for a moment, before Natasha’s spray of holy water came into contact with the demon’s back. The demon dropped Dean to the ground. He sprawled, dazed, a trickle of blood dripping from his nose.

Letting out a cry of rage at his brother’s injury, Sam pushed himself off the wall. He ran towards the demon; knife in hand, movements clumsy from what looked like a cracked rib.

The demon’s eyes widened as she realized the knife Sam wielded could bring her true death. She moved backwards towards the entrance so fast she was a blur. “Well, it looks like I’m outnumbered. Have fun kids.” She blew the assembled hunters a kiss. “Sayonara.” She turned and ran into the night.

The hunters looked at each other, adjusting their poses from warlike to cautious friendliness.

"That was too easy," Clint said suspiciously.

"Way too easy," Dean agreed, wiping the blood from his face with his sleeve. Then he looked outside and saw his Impala. “Who drove my baby?” he demanded. Sam was suspiciously silent.

Clint hid his smile in his hands as he realized who Dean’s baby was. It was a classic car, but it didn’t compare to Natasha. “Let’s get out of here before we start arguing,” he suggested.

“As long as _I’m_ driving,” Dean said.

“Move already,” Natasha said, backing Clint up. She threw Dean his keys.

Dean caught the keys easily, then looked between them and Natasha in horror. Clint could see he thought his car had been desecrated.

“But, but...” Dean started to say something, but Sam kicked him in the leg. They locked eyes for a moment, engaged in a brief silent conversation, Dean was indignant while Sam looked like he was trying to communicate exactly what Natasha could do with a knife and three seconds.

“I’m glad to see you too have finally mastered silent communication,” Natasha said snarkily. “But we’re wasting moonlight.”

“We’re gonna talk about this later,” Dean promised. “Just. Not. Cool,” he muttered to himself.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “We can chit-chat all you want once we’re back at the motel. Vamonos!” She made shooing motions with her hands.

Clint smiled. Even Natasha’s grumpy side was a relief after kidnapping and imprisonment.

The four hunters left the warehouse - backs to one another - each hunter scanning the side of the room for more demons, knowing they typically appeared in packs.

Natasha took the rear. No one was there to see her eyes flicker black for the blink of an eye.


End file.
